Something In Between
by DevDev
Summary: She doesn’t cry. But her whispered ‘oh god’s sound a little something like sobbing. Fourth story in my 'Can't Love, Can't Hurt' series. Claire/Sawyer


Disclaimer: Fourth story in my 'Can't Love, Can't Hurt' series, which I've borrowed from Augustana's cd of the same name. This story comes from their fourth track, _Twenty Years_and is more of a songfic than any of the previous ones. It's even more of an unusual thing for me to write as there aren't any quotations marks though the characters definitely speak. Hopefully such a thing worked out in the long run!

* * *

I gotta go. I just have to go. I gotta go. Gotta go right now. _I have to get __**out**__ of here!_

A rush of clothing stuffed in too bright of a suitcase. Her hair is wild and swinging loose. Torn from the simple twist nervously made that morning. He clutches her pale, thin wrists and brings them to his chest. Her black tears stain his shirt.

Okay. Okay, it's okay it's gonna be okay we're gonna be okay and we'll get him back.

It's what makes her world finally stop. Clutches at him because she cannot stand anymore. Sobs and sobs until he's done packing for her. Whispers a broken no no no no against his chest.

He's not mine anymore! _He'll never be mine again. _Oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod.

This is Claire after she loses her son to Kate in court.

* * *

_I've been running from something_

_Twenty years in a car,_

_Down a road that's leading me nowhere,_

_We drive through the farmland,_

_No one knows where we're from._

Sawyer stops on the side of the road. A red farmhouse somewhere in the distance is the only splash of color against the blue sky. They've been driving for weeks. He's not exactly sure why. But she says stop and he does it simply because it's the one thing he can do. For her.

She slams the car door. And with a flash of yellow she's off into the surrounding cornhusks. Running from God knows what. He slams his car door and runs too, immediately overpowered by the height of the corn. Lost. Again.

Claire doesn't know why it feels so good to run. But the sun is on her back and in her hair and she pushes through green husk after husk and feels free for the first time in years. She's a mother, but not really. A sister, but not really. A daughter? Not at all. Maybe she's nothing. Maybe she is the corn.

Maybe she is the sky! And the birds and the trees. And maybe, just maybe, she is that red barn. Full of hay and cows and horses and life. She breathes it and feels it and is life.

Sawyer crashes through the husks. Careful, she says, careful. You'll break me.

Maybe, he says. Would that be such a bad thing?

Yes. Maybe. No.

They are found hours later by people who don't know their faces from the TV or the newspaper. Both fully clothed, Claire atop of Sawyer sleeping soundly for the first time in years. He throws them a hundred dollar bill and wakes Claire.

New York, she says. Let's go to New York.

* * *

_Could I kiss you and make you a queen?_

_Or something in between._

When asked about it later, Claire blames the snow.

Unlike anything from the island. Unlike anything from their childhood pasts. Unlike any any any thing. Doesn't remind them of the things that hurt.

Mystifying. New. Every piece different from the next. It's possible they've never seen anything so beautiful in their life. The only adult New Yorkers hypnotized by the white wonder.

A nameless park with hills and Claire is diving onto a sled. Sawyer watches her gain speed and knows what will happen before it does. Hits a rock and flies into the air air air. She hasn't landed before Sawyer is already slipping down the hill after her.

The snow is stained with her blood, but she's smiling weakly. Lifts her arms to him like a child and he carries her the entire way home. She looks up at him, snow falling around them but doesn't say a word.

You never carried me on the island, she says later, after he's started the fire. Not like that. And her voice sounds a little funny, but her eyes don't look funny at all.

Never needed to. You tried so hard to be so strong I don't think you would have let me.

Like Kate.

No. Never like Kate. Always like Claire.

Kiss me. And she demands this against his chest. But she doesn't have to speak at all.

They peel the wet garments from one another's chilled skin like children – making the most brilliant discovery of all. They don't make it to either of the bedrooms.

* * *

_And there's no way around it,_

_Could this be our last dance?_

_Just fall asleep with the tv darling,_

_I'll be back again._

Claire begins to count down. In her head, but a count down all the same. How long will it be? She wonders and wonders, but never says anything. Doesn't know what she would say anyway.

Stops sleeping. Walks around in the dead of the night after he's fallen asleep. The city is perfect for this and sometimes the only thing that comforts her is the bright moon, further and closer than anything has ever been in her life. Sometimes she lies on some lawn of Central Park and counts the stars.

She's tired of wasting her starlight wishes on something that will never come true.

Sawyer never notices her absences, but she knows way before that happens. He's different. Tired. Tired of her, maybe. She's not really sure. A responsibility he doesn't want to carry any longer. Frankly, she can't blame him.

Blames herself. For who is she anyway? There are no cornhusks here, no open blue sky, and certainly no red barn. And it chokes her. Longed for the noise of the city and now she's more homesick than she has ever been in her entire life.

She leaves him before he can leave her. Sees his bags packed anyway, hidden away in some closet he thinks she doesn't know about. Hears one too many phone calls in the dead of the night when he thinks she's asleep.

She holds him one last time anyway. Despite knowing. Dances. Kisses his rough chin and takes in his scent. Rubs her hands through his hair and memorizes. Sighs as he makes love to her, gripping his arms instead of the bed sheets around them. Doesn't want to let him go, but can't hold on any longer. _Loves_ him one last time, though she doesn't know if the feeling is mutual any longer. Gives him a hungry kiss on the lips and rolls to her side. I love you, she says. But he's already asleep and her feet are already dangling from the edge of the bed.

She doesn't take anything with her. Just the clothes on her back and her share of the settlement. Better to leave with nothing than to have something something always tearing at your heart.

Kate has her boys now. Sawyer wasn't hers first. But Aaron was. And maybe Jack too.

She doesn't cry. But her whispered 'oh god's sound a little something like sobbing.

* * *

_Do you want to see it?_

_The place where I am free._

Everything the kid does reminds Sawyer of Claire. From his blonde hair and baby blues, to his love of the stars and the moon, down to his garbled Americanized speech. Everything the kid does. Everything. And it almost pleases him.

Kate doesn't ask what happened and he doesn't bother to tell her, but it takes a year before she allows him and Aaron to be alone. After all, he is the great con man and she won't let him forget it. But it doesn't stop her from sleeping with him the first night and most nights that follow after.

It's not the same.

He misses Claire. Doesn't let it show, but damn does he miss her. He's never felt so lost in his life, except maybe he deserves it more now. After what happened. After what he might have caused. Folds every postcard he gets from her every few months and keeps them in an envelope. Somewhere always close at hand. He shows them to Aaron so that one day he might remember. Hopes one day Aaron goes to find his mama and leaves this congested city. Hates hates the noisy city. Wonders if New York was nearly like this. Then remembers the one thing that was different. He doesn't tell Kate this.

He does tell Kate how much he misses the island though. Not the fighting and the guns and the cages, but the sky. The trees. Even the sand. Misses it all. She can't quite understand this and scoffs at him before falling asleep. She doesn't understand.

Sawyer can deal with Aaron and his constant reminder of Claire. He can even deal with Kate's coffee dates with the good ol' doc. But he can't, can't can't can't deal with Kate calling Aaron her son and him calling her mama. And will never deal with the rumpled sheets and the smell of sex and a shirtless Jack exiting their bedroom.

Coldly kisses Kate's cheek. Whispers a 'goodbye' to Aaron. Nods toward Jack.

Smiles like a lunatic. But he's not crazy at all. Mutters a 'Sweet Jesus' and closes the front door behind him silently. This isn't the place for him. But he knew that an hour or so before opening the door in the first place. Maybe he's always known. And his smile grows wider, his dimples suddenly appearing.

This is Sawyer after he walks away from Kate for the last time.

* * *

He finds her on some beach. Wearing next to nothing with her hair curling the way it used to back on the island. She knows he's there but won't look at him.

You're not really here, she bites out angrily. You were never really here.

He pulls her from the sand, though bits still cling to her legs and arms and they scratch him. Holds her against him.

I love you.

Says it once to her, quietly against her cheek. And he's never quite said it like that before.

Once more against her lips. Or like that.

And then again to her golden hair. Or there.

Then he shouts it against the wind and the sky until people are staring and her cheeks are flaming red. Or even like that.

Ohgodohgodohgod, she breathes. Because she loves him too.

end.


End file.
